Flames in Snow
by fiesa
Summary: Nabi. Red fire engulfs the only home he ever had, burns the only people he ever had accepted as his family. And the snow continues to fall. OneShot.


**Flames in Snow**

_Summary: Red fire engulfs the only home he ever had, burns the only people he ever had accepted as his family. And the snow continues to fall. OneShot._

_Warning: Spoilers for Nabi Vol1 and the first chapter of Vol2._

_Set: During and after Nabi Vol2, Prologue to Ch4 – Myo-Un I._

_Disclaimer: Standards apply._

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* * *

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The cold night air carried the scent of burning wood and ashes.

Thin, white columns of smoke rose into the black sky – almost invisible against the curtain of falling snow that coated the trees, the stones, the meadows. The red fire engulfed the only home he ever had, burned the remains of the only people he had ever accepted as his family. And while a world shattered, the snow continued to fall.

* * *

Every step was sheer pain.

Ryu-Sang staggered a few steps and fell to his knees, his sword burying its tip into harsh crust of ice until it met frozen ground. The snow was cold and wet and the ground hard under his knees.

_Plic. Plic. Plic._

The dripping sounded hollow in the forest and its surrounding trees. It was his own blood that was slowly draining him of life, he realized. In his state of over-alertness and semi-consciousness, he didn't think it important enough. Surely not as important as the fact that, below him, a temple was burning down to the ground, taking with him dead children and women and men alike, friend and foe.

But most of them were friends.

_Family._

Red flames danced in the night air, their flickering tongues casting long, restlessly moving shadows over the smoldering ruins. A few trees which had been standing where once the temple's inner courtyard had been also had caught fire, burning down slowly and brightly like candles at the altar. _Strange. _Ryu-Sang had always thought that a fire like this would smell dangerous, sweet and poisonous like a carcass or rotten and foul like bad food. But instead, it smelled like cedar wood and incense, like flowers in the sun (_there was only one person on earth who smelled like that_) and like Myeong-Cheol's camp fire at New Year's Day. It smelled familiar and comforting and yet the strange beauty of the licking, all-encompassing flames was _dangerous_ in itself. Dangerous, terrifying, destructive. Nothing was able to escape, neither the camellia bushes Lady Sabu had planted so lovingly nor the training grounds they had sparred on so often nor the children's quarters on the east wing of the temple. The main atrium fell victim to the flames as well as the kitchen quarters and the school rooms.

Since they hadn't had enough time to pack anything, everything they had owned burned down. Children's clothes and toys and dolls and school books and pencils and slates and drawings. Boy's wooden training swords and straw dummies and card games and girl's sewing kits and embroideries and paintings. Bed rolls and furniture. The kitchen's accessories and the cleaning equipment and the many, many scrolls and books Lady Sabu had kept in her quarters. His childhood burned down slowly, in a terrifying display of deadly beauty, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Along with all the items, thousand memories were reduced to ashes.

The sunlight dancing in Miho's hair. Dolsae glaring at him furiously. Dana coming home from town, waving and smiling. Lady Sabu, her face serious, scolding him for getting into a fight again, and the soft tenderness of her hands when she caressed his head. Aru calling out for him, proudly showing him her drawings. Oki and Dong-I chasing each other across the sleeping quarters. Seok-Ju and Myeong-Cheol sitting next to each other, their shoulders almost touching, watching the sun rise. Jeokyeong talking in his sleep.

And, of course, Myo-Un.

* * *

Red and white.

_Red flames on white snow._

Myo-Un, smiling softly. Myo-Un, walking behind him, trying hard to keep up his pace. Myo-Un, sitting in an empty room, concentrating on embroidery. Myo-Un, standing in the falling snow with her little umbrella. Myo-Un, serving breakfast to the children. Myo-Un, playing with Aru. Myo-Un, sleeping, holding Oki in her arms. Myo-Un, unconscious, wounded by an assassin. Myo-Un, talking to Chun-Hui, smiling and laughing. Myo-Un, bleeding over a shattered vase.

Red blood on her porcelain skin.

_Red flames on white snow._

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* * *

_

In a beautiful bust of sparks, the main roof of the temple collapsed and the fire roared up into the sky victoriously. Slowly, Ryu-Sang felt the cold of the snow underneath him seep into his body, through flesh and muscles and deep into his bones. There had been no time to put on warm clothes. His breath was a cloud of white, frozen air in front of his face. Shivering both from the loss of blood and from the cold alike, he tried to get onto his feet but collapsed again. His sword being the only thing holding him upright, he closed his eyes. But even through closed lids, he could see the red and golden flames.

_One week from now, take an airship._

_We'll meet you there, Ryu-Sang! Don't forget!_

_Don't fall asleep, big brother!_

The voices started mixing in his head and he knew he had to move on; otherwise he would freeze to death. Clenching his teeth hard, he pulled himself up and started to stagger forward. He had to take care of his wounds. They weren't life-threatening but they soon would be if he didn't treat them. He needed warm clothes. He needed to get to the airship haven. He had a responsibility. He had to find Jeokyeong and Aru and… _Myo-Un._ Suddenly, her face stood clearly before his eyes. For the first time in his life, he allowed it to linger there, traced her features with his eyes: the soft curve of her lips, the warm brown of her eyes. Her fringe that covered the scar he had inflicted on her. Her short nose, her small ears, the curve of her neck. Her dark hair, her red lips, her white skin.

_Red on white._

Keeping his sword unsheathed and ready in his hand, he started walking. _Keep walking_. It became a mantra, a song re-played again and again in his head. _Keep walking._ _Don't stop. Find them. _Step by step, agonizingly slow and painful, he made his way to the fringe of the forest and followed it to where he knew was a hidden path that would take him to the next village. _Step by step. Don't look back._ The light of the fire faded and the night seemed to grow even colder. He continued walking. His sword started to grow heavy in his hands. He continued walking. His wounds ached, his hands burned from the cold. He continued walking. After what felt like hours, he put his hand into his pocket to reassure himself the little pouch filled with money Dana had given him was still there. He found it and his hand closed around it, not caring about the fact that he was smearing his own blood on it. But his hand touched something else.

_A little vial._

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* * *

_

_In case your feet blister. It's an ointment Chun-Hui gave me. She said it's very effective._

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* * *

_

A little laugh escaped his lips. He had left everything behind, had lost everything he had known, many people he had counted as his family were dead and Jeokyeong, Aru and Myo-Un probably were dead was well. And here he was, wounded but not lethally so, and he even had an ointment to help lessen his pain.

_But it had been Myo-Un who had given it to him._

Clenching his hand around the round container, he lifted his head and carried on, towards the next village.

Behind him, flames burned red against the white snow that continued to fall.

He didn't look back.


End file.
